


How many soccer teams are there in Manchester?

by boleyn13



Series: Marry me a little [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - British, Alternate Universe - Human, And he is English, Fluff and Humor, Football | Soccer, Gen, Loki has his own radio show, Love at First Sight, M/M, Tony Stark Does What He Wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boleyn13/pseuds/boleyn13
Summary: “Did you throw your shoe at me?”“No.” The Brit said simply, then turned his head and smirked. A sparkle in his eyes. “But I cheered and called you a daft bastard.”And that was it. Tony was in love.Tony meets Loki for the very first time and falls in love. Instantly.
Relationships: Loki/Other, Loki/Tony Stark
Series: Marry me a little [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022373
Comments: 30
Kudos: 171





	How many soccer teams are there in Manchester?

**Author's Note:**

> That oneshot was so much fun that I wrote another part describing how they met
> 
> Have fun :D

_Set 10 years before 6,5 is a lucky number ___

____

____

Despite being outside Tony felt overheated and the drink in his hand did little to refresh him. As he slowly made his way through the crowd off the dancefloor Tony came into close contact with a lot of sweaty, swaying bodies. Not that he minded much. Getting the opportunity to innocently feel somebody up was the best thing about a dancefloor or dancing in general. Tony had been whirling around for the last two hours or so, he deserved a break and most importantly a sip of water. It was not going to do anything about the hangover he was going to suffer from tomorrow. Thor knew how to throw a party. Tony could do without the Australian heat though. Even in the middle of the night there was no cool breeze.

The cute bartender smiled knowingly when Tony put down his drink and ordered a glass of water instead. As soon as he had it in his hand Tony walked a few steps away from the dancefloor, along the pool. The music was blasting in his ears, he could only vaguely make out people singing or laughing. Part of Tony wondered how they were able to do that without melting. Australians were weird. Since everything was the wrong way around here Tony walked back up to the house, across the terrace where a few people were lunging around. The doors that led inside the house were wide open and the thin curtains were moving softly. A breeze was coming from inside the house, the air conditioning was definitely working overtime.

Eager to stop feeling so hot Tony lazily strolled into the house and for the first time in hours heard something that wasn’t blasting music.

“Are you blind, you fucking cunt!? What game are you watching?!”

What a lovely British accent. Hard thing to come by in Australia.

The lights in the room were off, it was only illuminated by the huge TV screens were a couple of overpaid guys were running after a ball. Tony could make about three guys lying on the couch, one excitedly gesturing with his hands.

“Sodding bastard.”

A charming lot, but Tony was sure that the referee deserved as much. Tony couldn’t be bothered why these guys had decided to ignore the most amazing party to watch a soccer game in the middle of the night. Well, it wasn’t in the middle of the night in England, he supposed. All that Tony was here for was the cool air which felt heavenly. Wonderful. Except that it was too quiet here. No more yelling at the referee, so the only voice audible was the commentator. Tony was gladly going to be the one to make conversation.

“So who’s winning?” Not that he had any idea who was fucking playing.

Honestly, it had been a very long time since somebody had told him to shut up. Now three voices said it in unison and in three different ways.

“Shut your face!”

“Shh!”

“Shut up!”

Now that was an invitation Tony was gladly going to accept. He needed to get a little bit closer though to make sure everybody heard him. In front of the TV seemed like the right place. “I am sorry I didn’t get what you said. Could you possibly be so nice and repeat it?”

Tony wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t a shoe being thrown at him. They surely weren’t friends of diplomacy. One never knew with the Brits. The shoe also barely missed the TV. “That was a close one. Thor is going to be pissed if you break his TV.”

“I am going to be fucking furious if you don’t move your arse!”

“Fuck off!”

Pretending to be confused Tony took a look around. “Oh, you want me to leave?”

“Jesus Christ, fuck off!”

“You mean right now?”

“Come on, give me your other shoe!”

“Daft bastard!”

Tony wasn’t willing to face the immediate danger of another attack, so he did them a favour and indeed walked off. There was still loads of alcohol waiting for him out there and people who were actual fun. One minute later he ran into Thor who was a little worse for wear. It was his birthday party, totally acceptable. Tony thought it was his duty to inform him about the three British idiots who were throwing stuff at his TV. Thor reacted in a way that could only be described as Thor. He drunkenly smiled and growled happily “Good for them!”

That man knew how to party.

***

The hangover wasn’t as bad as Tony had feared. Instead of feeling like having been run over by a truck, he felt like a small car had hit him. A coupé. Something Tony would never buy. Instead of sleeping in the nice room Thor had accommodating him in Tony had passed out on a deckchair next to the pool. The sun was beating down on him and Tony wanted to down several gallons of water. Carefully stepping over all the other people who were either passed out or sleeping Tony made his way into the house. Somewhere among these people had to be his date. In his somewhat sober state Tony couldn’t remember where the kitchen was, so he followed the only sound audible in the entire house.

Music. Very different from the one last night and just a single voice singing along. Not too badly. Tony stepped into the kitchen with only one thing in mind, he was going to attach his mouth to the water faucet and drink until he was going to be sick. Or that was what he thought he would do. The kitchen was a mess, but that didn’t stop this guy from making breakfast. And singing. Wearing a tight pair of black boxer shorts and a white t-shirt.

Tony regretted tilting his head to the side only a little bit. There was a flash of pain, but it did offer him a very nice view. The other one’s back was to him, allowing Tony to marvel at his long legs and lovely neck. He had long hair that was pulled up in a neat bun and a very slender waist that formed the perfect V with his shoulders. Now where had this specimen been last night? Or had he ever been outside? No Australian could have such white skin.

“Good morning. Would you mind serving a thirsty man a glass of water?”

The singing stopped and the stranger looked over his shoulder. Yes, a nice face. Also completely unimpressed by Tony’s request. “Tap’s over there.” He said nodding his head towards the sink.

Now look at that. A British exemplar of the human species and he was charming. Tony made his effort to not look like every step was causing him a severe headache as he walked over to the sink. Maybe he should have enough decency to get a glass. “So… did Manchester win?”

The Brit quirked an eyebrow and Tony couldn’t help but to be drawn in by the extraordinary expressiveness of the other’s face. Nothing impressed Tony more than people being able to transmit so much condescension with so little effort. He wondered what the other one’s eyes would look like when he was happy. Or excited.

“Manchester didn’t play last night.”

“Ahh…” Tony made a pensive sound. “They’re the only team I know.”

“Which one?” The Brit asked drily and in that very second Tony knew that he had to simply do anything to make sure the other one kept talking. His voice was gorgeous. Just deep enough, smooth and it invited Tony to close his eyes and get swept away by it. Obviously Tony’s new mission was to make the other one talk and it didn’t even matter what he was going to say. Or how he would say it. Screw it, Tony was already enchanted by this quirked eyebrow, he would gladly hear what the Brit sounded like pissed off. Shouldn’t be that much of a challenge.

“There is more than one? I thought that city only had one attraction.”

“City or United. Blue or red.”

“Does the colour matter when it’s still 11 guys running around in a circle waiting for the time to run out?”

The Brit huffed ever so lightly. Not really offended but a little annoyed. His voice was like honey. “I suppose you are only interested in much more sophisticated sports.” He turned back to the stove and Tony glimpsed for the first time at the breakfast in the making. Thank god it wasn’t baked beans, his stomach wouldn’t have been able to handle that. No, the Brit was making French toast.

“Definitely. I have standards after all. Did your team win?”

“Yes.”

This casualness was pissing Tony off and intrigued him at the same time. “Did you throw your shoe at me?”

“No.” The Brit said simply, then turned his head and smirked. A sparkle in his eyes. “But I cheered and called you a daft bastard.”

And that was it. Tony was in love.

Union Jack took the pan off the stove and put the toast on a plate before walking to the table. Tony’s eyes followed his every movement. Smooth, just like his voice. Letting his back rest against the fridge Tony pressed the cold glass of water against his forehead. This was going to make a great story about the very first meeting. “The name’s Tony by the way. You probably know that already.”

“I do actually.” The Brit replied, a small smile was playing around his lips before he took the first bite of his French toast.

“I am always happy to hear that my reputation precedes me. Don’t worry, there is no need to be starstruck. I am just like everybody else. Your everyday genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. And you are?” Tony tried to show off his most dazzling smile and his smashing hangover didn’t make it that easy for him. This was definitely worth the effort though.

“Starstruck.” The Brit said after swallowing a rather big piece of French toast. “I am not starstruck.”

The sun was rising inside of Tony’s chest. “Fantastic. I like that in a man.” Pulling up a chair Tony sat down opposite of Union Jack who didn’t support Manchester United City. Little needles were being pushed right through his forehead and Tony didn’t give a damn. “So how do you know Thor? You certainly don’t look like you’re spending a lot of time on the football field together. Actual football that is. Well, Australian football, so it’s still debatable if it’s actual football, but at least it’s has players actually doing something. Anyhow, how do you guys know each other?”

“Barely. I just came here for the free food and alcohol.”

Tony was now adding the corner of the Brit’s mouth to little things about his face that he found irresistible. There was a little bit of mischief in all these expressions. “Smart decision.”

For the first time it was the Brit that asked a question. “How does the world’s leading arms leader know a slightly above average Australian football player?”

Tony answered that with a grin. “The usual. Met at some kind of charity event. I go to a lot of these. Being a philanthropist and all.”

Union Jack slightly raised his chin and he finally looked a bit intrigued. “Donating to charities. Is that a way of making up for the fact that you’ve made an unbelievable fortune by selling a product whose only purpose is to kill and causes misery all over the world?”

A question that Tony had heard numerous times before, the question alone wasn’t a problem. It depended on how it was asked. Union Jack had an amused twinkle in his eyes, very unlike the liberal journalism students who usually approached Tony with verbal attacks like this. “Exactly. It’s way easier to sleep with a clear conscience than in a bed made of money.”

“What a nice image.”

“Yeah, I’m rather good with words. Speaking of words, I would like to learn a new one. Your name.”

Union Jack turned out to have the most British name in history. “Loki.”

Two four-letter names would easily fit on an invitation.

“Immense pleasure to meet you. Now, Loki, this piece of French toast looks delicious. Mind if I take a bite?”

“Very much so. I do not share.” The sneaky bastard smirked despite not touching the little remaining piece of toast on his plate. “There is a lot of food in that atrocity of a fridge. Serve yourself.”

“You’re missing out. Sharing does make one feel better.”

Loki put his forked down after having licked it perfectly clean and Tony for the very first time in his life felt the bizarre urge to swap places with a piece of cutlery. “Ah. Like sharing a few notes from your bed made of money. I wonder why you mostly give to sick children or the homeless in the US. They are not the most affected by your… way of making all that money. Wouldn’t it be easier to appease your conscience if you tried to benefit the ones that are suffering from your business?”

Downing the rest of his water, which did jackshit against his hangover, Tony shrugged. “I don’t think that a trust for the victims of war founded by me would be in good taste, don’t you agree? What is the alternative? Attaching a 100 dollar bill to every single bullet I sell, so the surviving members of the family of the one getting hit by said bullet are recompensed? Again, something makes me think that people would not appreciate it.”

“Once more I am dazzled by the image you created. Like poetry.”

“One of my many talents.” Tony offered the other one a conspiratorial smirk. Loki returned it and Tony got to enjoy a simple moment without a throbbing headache. Second passed, flying away quicker than they had ever before in Tony’s life. Could there be anything more precious than silence that wasn’t awkward and begging to be filled with useless and superficial words? This was going to be paradise. A gorgeous guy with a voice smooth enough to make shivers run down Tony’s spine, who he could have the most entertaining and slightly vicious banter with. Someone who would only open their mouth to say something meaningful, interesting, funny or mean-spirited. What was there more to ask for?

Tony needed to refurnish his apartment in London.

“Oh fuck, turn off this shit! You know I hate this song!”

Startled Tony turned his head as the bubble had burst. A dishevelled and wrecked Thor was slowly shuffling into the room, still wearing last night’s clothes. The biggest grin imaginable spread across Loki’s face when he reached for his phone to shut off the music Tony had stopped registering minutes ago. “You still have no taste in music.”

“It’s still my birthday, I’ll listen to what I want. Good morning, Tony.” Thor sat down next to them and Thor was pleased to see that there was at least one person who was in a worse state them him. To be honest, Thor looked downright pitiful. Until the very moment he spotted the last remains of French toast on Loki’s plate. First his eyes lit up, then the rest of his face with the most blatant joy. “You made French toast!”

“I did.”

“With cinnamon and strawberries?”

“My speciality. It was glorious. This is all that’s left. I think I will enjoy it at the pool and watch the zombies waking up.” Grabbing his plate Loki stood up and walked towards the door. A bounce in his steps and his lovely hips swaying ever so slightly. Tony hoped that he wasn’t drooling.

Thor’s face fell as quickly as it had lit up. “Are you serious?! You make my favourite and eat it yourself just to piss me off?!”

Instead of answering Loki restarted singing. “Someday you will find me caught beneath the landslide. In a champagne supernova in the sky…” And he was gone.

Growling Thor covered his ears. “I hate that song!”

Inside his chest Tony’s heart skipped a beat. “Isn’t he dreamy?”

Grimacing Thor stood back up to get his own glass of water and aspirin. “Not the word I would choose to describe my brother.”

Tony’s very dignified reaction was to almost choke on his own spit. “I am sorry… last night’s party must have damaged my ears. Did you just say that this guy who is oozing Britishness and looks like one little ray of sunshine could burn his skin… is your brother?”

Thor nodded while swallowing two aspirin at the same time. “He’s adopted. Our parents separated when he was five. I moved with our mom to Australia, Loki stayed in London with our dad. Hence the accent.”

This was ideal. Perfect opportunity to learn everything that he needed to know. “Tell me every single thing about him. I need to know everything.”

Frowning in confusion Thor asked, “Why?”

“Because I am in love with him.” Tony stated bluntly and Thor merely batted an eyelid. “Yeah, sure. Obviously.”

Most definitely he thought that Tony was still drunk. Better give him an incentive. “You know I really don’t give a fuck about Australian football, but I have a lot of money and I like to throw it at things. I could throw it at your team. Let’s say 10 million American dollars. All you have to do is to talk to me over breakfast. About your brother. The man who I just declared my soulmate.”

“That’s not how it works. You can’t just declare someone your soulmate.”

“Obviously I can. I just did. Do I have to repeat myself? 10 million dollars.”

“Tony, it’s too early and my head is killing me. I didn’t get any French toast. I am not in the mood for your jokes.”

“Fine, make it 20 million.”

Now it was Thor who was choking on his own spit. After coughing for a bit he nodded, looking a little pale. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“What soccer team does he support?”

“The Spurs.”

“And what the hell are they supposed to be?”

“Tottenham Hotspur. They are a football club in North London.”

“Are you telling me that there are other soccer teams than the ones in Manchester?”

Thor sighed deeply and Tony shrugged with a smile. “Okay, whatever. What does he do?”

“He hosts a radio show.”

Yeah, that made perfect sense. With a voice like that. “Oh, I’m going to have to tune in sometime. Look at his face though. He should be on TV.”

“Oh god, don’t tell him that. He will go on about it for hours on end.”

Rightly so, Tony’s soon-to-be boyfriend backslash soulmate deserved to be the next Letterman. Or whatever the British equivalent might be. This was the best birthday party of Tony’s entire life.

“Tony? I’ve been looking for you…”

Thor burst out laughing when he saw a young woman, looking a little bit worse for wear standing in the doorway. Oh right, Tony had come here with a date. Now that was going to be an awkward conversation.

***

It was about a week later when Pepper called Tony and yelled at him for giving some English radio host an interview. Tony quickly went online to listen to the most important parts of Loki Laufeyson’s show.

“Oh yeah, Tony Stark is rather charming in person and not timid whatsoever when it comes down to answering questions about whether is troubles him to have made a fortune on selling death an misery. He confirmed that his many charities mostly serve the purpose of making him feel better about himself. Here’s a direct quote: ‘It’s way easier to sleep with a clear conscience than in a bed made of money’.”

“Wow. How did you get exclusive access for this interview?”

“Oh, I didn’t. I met him at my brother’s birthday party and asked him a couple of questions without telling him that I am a journalist.”

“That’s highly immoral.”

“And effective.”

Tony smiled to himself. He was going to marry this man.

***

The next time Tony saw his future husband was nine weeks later. Ironically at a fundraiser in London. Tony spotted him right away in his dark green suit and with another’s man arm around his waist. Oh, one simply had to feel sorry for the poor guy. He definitely had no idea that Tony was going to walk away with his date eventually. Right down the aisle.

Tonight though, Loki was coming to him first. “Mr. Stark, how nice to see you again.”

“Oh please, call me Tony. We’re friends, aren’t me? After all I gave you an exclusive interview, didn’t I?”

The grin was so big it almost split Loki’s face apart. “Right. I have to thank you. Most listeners I’ve had in a while, I have to admit and I am a pretty big deal in the UK.”

“I always aim to please. Now that I’ve enlarged your audience, how about you buy me a drink? It’s the very least you can do.”

Loki severely disappointed him by declining. “I am sorry, but I do think that my boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate that. I wish you a pleasant evening though. Perhaps I will see you around.”

“Sure, a man has to look after his own relationship, I totally understand. I am almost sorry that it isn’t going to last.” Tony stated with a straight face which made Loki frown in confusion. “I am afraid I cannot follow.”

“Oh, right, you aren’t aware of this yet. You are my soulmate. I am going to marry you someday.”

To say that Loki looked dumbfounded would be a huge understatement. Given his expression one might think that Tony had just made some absolutely preposterous statement. Which he clearly hadn’t, no, he had been pointing out the obvious. The sun was rising in the East. Strawberries were red. The night was dark. Tony was filthy rich. And Tony was going to marry this pretentious, snarky Englishman. All of these were axioms.

Wiping his own bewilderment away Loki chuckled softly. “You are indeed a bit mental.” It sounded like the sweetest compliment and Loki’s eyes said that he also meant it that way. After gifting him one more smile Loki turned around and returned to his boyfriend who had already been not very subtly looking in their direction. Loki kissed him on the cheek and Tony decided that they definitely weren’t going to invite exes to their wedding.

Having found one’s soulmate was marvellous.


End file.
